Controversia
by Whiteface Spades
Summary: In which our beloved Lavi has finally become a Bookman. He is still convinced that humanity will not be saved. Will a young waitress change his mind? One-shot; very brief.


_[[A/N: This was originally a prompt for my Creative Writing class. The goal was to depict a character that acts enthusiastic and happy, but thinks in the opposite way. I thought to myself, 'Golly…this is perfect for Lavi!'_

_So here it is. AU, and Lavi has become a Bookman! :3 Enjoy! ]]_

**CONTROVERSIA**

c o n t r a d i c t i o n

A single green eye tiredly scanned the newspaper. Another murder, another rape, another day in a country that was falling apart at the seams. The man sighed and leaned back in his chair, taking another long drag from his cigarette and watching the smoke lazily float away. The café was buzzing with activity around him, waitresses whispering and giggling to one another as customers typed away on their laptops and sipped away at their coffees, but he didn't seem to pay it much mind.

The Bookman could not be disturbed by such trivial things.

His deep green eye continued scanning the print, mentally logging every headline. A woman had apparently been killed over a marriage squabble. A mother in dire straits had drowned her only baby because she couldn't afford to feed it. An emaciated puppy had been found in a dumpster near the home of a known dog fighter. The Bookman frowned, his pale lips turning down around the warm cigarette as his visible eyebrow arched with what may have been astonishment.

'_Humanity can't sink any lower.'_

A waitress approached him, her slightly made-up lips set in a slightly eager smile. She bent at the waist to look at him a bit better, pretty eyes scanning his face curiously before she perked up a bit and asked, "Can I get you more tea, mister? Maybe a different kind?"

"Sure thing, doll~" He winked at her, then flashed her an award-winning smile. "How about some jasmine green this time? Little honey, maybe, ta sweeten it a little. Unless you'd keep me company this mornin'; **that** would be sweeter than anything else~!"

She nodded, a faint blush blossoming on her cheeks as she batted her mascara-coated eyelashes. "My break is in fifteen minutes."

A knowing smile tugged at the Bookman's lips.

'_Strike.'_

"Really? It's awful lonesome over here. Think yer boss would be mad at me if ya spent yer break with me?"

"Not at all!" She laughed. A musical, schoolgirl laugh. A laugh that grated on his nerves something fierce. "I'll bring that tea right out for you, then."

"Thanks, honey~"

'_Floozy.'_

As she walked away, hips swaying slightly as one of her fellow waitresses watched, clearly offended that she had been asked to sit with him, the Bookman turned his face back to the newspaper in front of him. He kept reading. Eventually he raised a hand to absently scratch at the patch covering his right eye, slipping a finger beneath the elastic band stretching over his nose to give the irritated skin beneath it an itch. Damn thing. It always distracted him.

He eventually shot a glance up at the large clock on the wall; ten minutes has passed. He sighed and took another drag from the cigarette, then rested it in the ashtray beside him. He reached back, tugging on the ends of the bandana holding his rich red hair away from his face, tightening the black strip of fabric. Didn't want to look sloppy for his company.

As he picked the cigarette up and placed it back between his lips, the orange-haired waitress brought his tea. She set it on the table. He smiled and winked at her. She blushed. It was a scenario that the Bookman was used to.

"I'll be back to keep you company in a few minutes!" she said as she walked back behind the counter.

"Thank ya, darling~"

He turned his attention back to the newspaper. His tired eye continued reading through the print, eating it up like a hungry green hamster. He registered every word, every vowel, every consonant. He scanned and logged every picture and every quote. Despite his ravenous reading, he was even able to hear the waitress as she called to her boss and walked out from behind the counter. She sounded irritated. Maybe her boss was going to give her crap for sitting with him. Typical. As she sat down in the chair across from him, he pushed the newspaper aside, his demeanor brightening.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Chomesuke," she said, smiling. "How about you?"

"Just call me Bookman~"

"All right, 'Bookman,'" She laughed again. His nerves winced.

They talked, she sipped her small mocha, and he flirted with her. Normal conversation, normal girl, normal **everything**. Normal, boring **shit**.

She eventually bade the Bookman adieu and disappeared back behind the counter. He picked up his newspaper and went back to reading. At this point, he wasn't really focusing on the words anymore. No matter how many times he read them, it didn't matter. No matter what the headlines said, humanity would not be saved.


End file.
